Thursday, 2 April 2020

Dialogue ~ 23

I am experiencing some conflict in knowing where to begin with what I am wishing to convey through my writing. Ordinarily I might begin a piece of writing with some form of introductory piece; this is intended to allow a reader and for that matter, a stream of my own thought to advance in a clear and linear fashion, as if moving from one understanding to another; you might picture this as building one idea upon another as it were, somewhat akin to a house of cards. 

The conflict I am experiencing, to try and put it into words, feels as if there are multiple understandings which I am wishing to convey, with each one co-existing with and being interactive with others; streams of thought which are occurring simultaneously and from them still, there are other thoughts which are arising and taking form. How to find a beginning in the midst of such complexity? An image which is coming to mind is of diving into a pool which has a layer of oil floating upon it and is constantly coalescing and changing form. How can you map such terrain? Perhaps it is better not to look for a beginning (or an ending) but to discern what is being revealed ‘real-time’ through one’s own experience of it?

There is a word which has caught my attention recently: it is ‘tetelestai’, in the context of it being the last thing that Jesus is given as saying as he died upon the cross. Tetelestai is a Greek word and comes from the verb ‘teleo’, which means ‘to bring to an end, to complete, to accomplish’. Translated into English, tetelestai means ‘it is finished’.  

It may be that ‘tetelestai’ caught my attention because I have also been looking at the word ‘teleological’ which comes from the Greek root tele-, telos meaning ‘end or purpose’ and ‘teleology’ which has the meaning of ‘the study of ends or purposes’, as well as ‘teleologist’ as in a person who attempts to understand the purpose of something by looking at its results. 

Is there a correlation between ‘tetelestai’ and what Jesus had said previously, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as You will.” (Matthew 26:39)? I am considering this particularly in regard to the designation of will and for that matter, momentum. Ordinarily we are accustomed to an experience of will being closely related to desire or intention; what would it mean for will to be designated to that which is beyond any concept of ourselves? Would such an action be regarded as an ultimate act of faith in that which is greater than our sense of self or instead would it be regarded as foolish? Who would be the one to judge? 

Further, why do I include momentum in the designation of will? Is one path more efficient than another? Looking at efficiency returns us to purpose or teleology – what is it that we are intending to accomplish and how clear are we that we know what that is? Is ‘being in our truth’ simply another way of describing our clarity of purpose? What happens when we correlate ‘resurrection’ (as in coming back to life after death) with absolute clarity of purpose or teleology?

I am asking these questions because I think that being human (and in particular the phenomenon of culture which is similar to group-think) allows us to fall into particular mind sets which tell us what our purpose is almost from the start. Such certainty of purpose is often very resilient to change and to criticism or critical analysis. There is a familiar proverb, ‘there are none so blind as those who will not see’ which is usually used in the context of an ignorant person and in particular one who chooses to ignore what they already know to be true.

Certainly there are many passages contained in religious and sacred texts which employ metaphor to try and circumvent those who ‘have eyes but do not see or ears which do not hear’; usually they are entreating the wisdom of the heart. What is this ‘designation of the will’ or peeling back of a metaphorical onion purported to reveal? How does this glimpse of truth relate to that which is revealed through reason alone or for that matter, logic? 

Reason is commonly defined as ‘the power of the mind to think, understand and form judgments logically’. Logic is defined as ‘reasoning conducted or assessed according to strict principles of validity’. Both therefore, are contingent upon an absolute certainty of principle or premise. Neither then would be appreciative of a maelstrom or fluidity of reality through which nothing is concrete or absolute but exists perpetually in flux. Classical Greece went to great lengths to cultivate the mind set of supremacy of order from out of chaos; society and justice ever since have been following in its stead. We are where we are in terms of what we define as progress, technology and an uplifted experience of being human as a consequence of building upon a foundation of truth which we proclaim as reality and which we regard as being sacrosanct. 

What would happen if, like the characters in the movie ‘The Wizard of Oz’, we pull aside the ‘magician’s curtain’? Would what we find there have the power to destroy or to revitalise us? Is this what we have traditionally been referring to as choosing between everlasting life and death?

Clearly what is being laid bare here is the mind’s ability to critically examine and discern truth. More than that however, it concerns our ability to be willing to dive ever deeper into our own mind set and to comfortably dwell in a maelstrom (or an illusory world of form) in which truth is only apparent as a glimpse and by which (in the true vein of science - or being as inquisitive as a child - or as passionate as Eros) we are beckoned to pursue and explore and to be transformed by what we find; it is the Hero’s journey.

Much has been written about the nature of ‘truth’, so much so that it has been presented as being an absolute or concrete form of reality or revelation. I find this unhelpful, because when people are told what ‘truth’ is, it generates conflict and doubt in their mind as to whether they are able to access it for themselves in a way that is other than their ability to learn it from others. Much less appears to have been written about ‘process’ and this is mostly because each person’s journey and experience of truth is going to be unique. Given that human beings appear to feel comfort through constancy and shared experience, it is little wonder that for the sake of expediency and the mobilisation amongst a multitude, greater focus has been placed on ‘what lies at the top of any given mountain or at the end of any route’ than what is experienced in its traversing. 

I am not referring to distinctive spiritual paths or ‘tricks of the trade’ here but more actual, lived experience in which every moment holds an opportunity of revelation; this goes beyond looking for patterns or signs or symbols or even purpose of one’s life for that matter. What I am essentially trying to convey here is that ‘purpose will find a person rather than the other way around’. Having said this, it is crucial to understand that one’s ability to experience purpose is not contingent upon one’s searching or doing but is more about one’s ability to be attentive. 

To be clear, being attentive is not active in a way as is typically understood by being active and nor is it passive in that nothing is required of a person at all. I believe that what has obscured experiencing purpose for most people is that it is as if we have become entrained by historical and populist thinking in response to what is perhaps our most fundamental desire to know ourselves in the midst of our experience.

We have sought clarity as if clarity is something that is capable of being revealed to us through our ability to perceive phenomenon and have tried to understand by way of how such things have come into existence and their potential effect upon us; we have learnt how to react (and at best respond) to phenomenon as if it is separate from ourselves; in our haste to piece together reality as if it were a jigsaw, we have missed that it is the fundamental way in which we are perceiving reality that is being called upon to change and not an efficiency of what we do. 

I believe that ‘tetelestai’ is a message for us to move beyond an experience of knowing ourselves only as individuations of life that exist in a continuum between birth and death - to being willing to perceive of life (including ourselves) as unknowable in terms of complexity, not because we are incapable of recognition of form or pattern but because we are incapable of perceiving an entirety of how such form has and continues to arise in the first place.

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